


Slipping (or Steve McGarrett, Multi-cosmic Janitor)

by leista



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Death, M/M, Parallel Universes, Science Fiction, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leista/pseuds/leista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wakes up in a reality that's not his own.  And then it happens again. And again. And—well, you get the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping (or Steve McGarrett, Multi-cosmic Janitor)

 

***

(Alt.1)

Steve woke up suddenly, realizing before he was fully conscious that he'd never made it home the night before. Might have to do with the imprint of his desk across half his face, the outline of a file folder a right angle across his cheek. 

 

He got up, planning to stretch his legs, rotate sleep-sore shoulders, and ease the tension in his stiff neck, but he didn't get any further than staring groggily at his faint reflection in the glass when Danny distracted him by walking into HQ. 

 

Danny did double-take when he saw Steve, instantly diverted his course and made a beeline for him. Steve tried not to eye the steaming coffee in his hand too hungrily as he walked in.

 

Apparently he failed, because Danny pressed the cup into his hand without a word, fingers brushing far longer than was absolutely necessary. Steve took a sip and repressed the urge to moan wantonly as the delicious nectar of the gods passed his lips. Then he noticed Danny was being quiet. Never a good sign.

 

“What's wrong?” Steve asked, taking in the pissy hands-on-hips posture and the annoyed tilt to his lips that meant Danny was gearing up for ultimate bitch-out mode. He set down the coffee deliberately.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Working?” Steve wasn't sure why he was phrasing it as a question. 

 

“Working, he says,” Danny muttered, shaking his head. He slipped into Steve's personal space, nothing odd there. But then he leaned close, chests pressed together and Dany's hand on the small of his back close, and Steve felt like he'd missing something very important. The feeling only grew stronger when his neck was tugged down and...yes, that had definitely been a kiss. 

 

“Woah,” Steve said because he'd apparently forgotten every real word in existence. 

 

Danny tilted his head. “What, bad breath?” He tested, hand to his mouth, then shrugged. “I just smell coffee, babe.” 

 

“No, it's—uh.”

 

“Now are you going to tell me why you didn't come home last night?” Danny pulled away slowly, going from warmly affectionate to irritated without any rational transition in between, as far as Steve could tell.

 

“I didn't make it that far.”

 

Danny huffed. “You go _out of town_ for a week, and then head straight _here_ when you get back. I see how it is.”

 

“I haven't been anywhere,” Steve said, more lost by the minute. He'd stayed late the night before to finish up the paperwork on their last case and...

 

“Right, right. I guess Mr. Super-SEAL just turned himself _invisible_ and hid out for five _entire days_ just for the sheer hell of it, and didn't actually go on some BS secret op to save the planet from annihilation or some damn thing.”

 

“It's not BS,” Steve snapped reflexively, realizing belatedly that he _hadn't been gone_ anywhere _._

 

“Of course not,” Danny said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He stopped, hand on handle, then turned back around. “You know what your problem is?”

 

“Here we go,” Steve muttered. “No. What is my problem?” _And why the hell did you kiss me and then start with all the yelling?_

 

“You, my dear heart, are a workaholic.”

 

“So are you.” Steve shrugged, a little thrown by the endearment but taking it in stride.

 

“I am not.”

 

“You really are.”

 

“But that's totally different, and has absolutely nothing to do with this disc—“

 

Kono poked her head through the door. “I take it the honeymoon's over?” she asked, lips quirked.

 

Steve hadn't even noticed her walk in. He must've been more tired than he thought. He opened his mouth to say...something, but she beat him. 

 

“We've got a case,” she said, ducking back out.

 

Danny was staring at him shrewdly. “Are you okay?”

 

Steve nodded. “No.”

 

Danny cocked his head, lips quirking.

 

“I'm fine,” Steve tried again, “go ahead. I—I'll catch up in a minute.”

 

“Alright,” Danny said, but not like he believed him, and walked out, throwing a glance over his shoulder before catching up with Kono.

 

Steve felt a liddle odd, dizzy, and sank heavily back into his chair and let his head drop back onto the desk with a resounding _thunk_. He tried to think back over what had just happened, but his mind was an uncooperative, whirring blank. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, desk cool against his flushed face.

 

***

(Home)

Steve woke up with an undignified snort and rubbed at the sleep-lines on his face. He stared down at his desk for a long time. He didn't even look up when his door creaked quietly open.

 

“Earth to Steve, Earth to Steve, _hello_.” 

 

Steve finally looked up when a cup of coffee was set right in front of his face. He blinked blearily up at Danny, who studied him, warmth warring with exasperation in his expression.

 

“You never made it home last night, did you?” He asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

 

“Didn't we already do this?” Steve asked, unable to shake the memory of the too-real dream that he wasn't sure was a dream. He licked his lips and tasted coffee (along with something else that was hard to define), though his cup still sat untouched on the desk.

 

“What, say hello? Yes, _yesterday,_ but I enjoyed it so much I thought I'd try it again today.”

 

“No, this exactly.” _Well, not exactly, but_... “I'm getting a major deja vu thing here.” But that wasn't quite right either. He caught himself licking his lips again and stopped.

 

“Unless I did some sleepwalking, followed by some sleep-driving and a negligible amount of sleep-buying coffee, I highly doubt it, babe.” Danny was one part amused and two parts worried.

 

“But you brought me a coffee and-” _and kissed me_ “-started yelling at me.”

 

“I don't yell. I speak passionately.” Danny crossed his arms.

 

“No, you yell.” Steve picked up his coffee.

 

Kono poked her head through the door. “We've got a case.” 

 

Steve lowered his coffee back to the desk untasted. Again, he'd apparently been too absorbed in his own stuff to notice her come in.

 

She walked out, expecting them to follow.

 

_What the hell?_

 

~~~

 

“Four victims in little over a month; we've got a serial killer on our hands.” Kono said brusquely, opening the case file and showing the victims. Sandra, a middle-aged brunette with prematurely graying hair. Joey, a sandy-haired twenty-something guy with a spiderweb tat on his neck. A Jane Doe, a young woman with bobbed hair and high cheekbones. An older man, a local by the look of it, with a frown like slashing his brow, even in death. Faces all slack and gray and lifeless.

 

“I may be missing something,” Chin said, frowning at the vics, “namely a connection. Normally serial killers have a _type_.”

 

Kono pursed her lips, then schooled her face into blankness. “All four were found in remote sections of beach around the island, riddled full of holes.” She paused, pulled up map with marked locales on the computer.

 

“That still doesn't explain the serial killer angle,” Steve said.

 

“The only thing that we've found to connect them so far,” Kono said slowly, finding a different file folder on the computer, “is that they're all missing their left maxillary lateral incisor.” She pulled up four images of their victims, mouths gaping indecently, all with the same gap in their teeth.

 

“Huh,” Steve said eloquently, “so, trophies, obviously.”

 

Kono quickly closed the images.

 

“Who does this guy think he is, the tooth fairy?” Danny asked, going for levity but missing his mark.

 

“If so, I think he's doing it wrong,” Chin said dryly. 

 

“What else do we know about these people; what connects them?” Steve asked, “There has to be _some_ method here. Some _reason_.”

 

“On it,” Kono said, already in research mode.

 

“I'll go find out what Max can glean from the bodies,” Chin said, halfway to the door.

 

“I guess that leaves us to talk to the families,” Steve said, leading Danny out. 

 

“Fucking tooth fairy bastard,” Danny muttered, barely loud enough for Steve to hear.

 

Given the situation, it was obscenely hard for Steve to suppress his grin. He was going to Hell, and it was all Danny's fault.

 

~~~

 

The first two families were a bust. Trying to navigate hostile waters through an invisible minefield of grief and loss. On days like today, Steve would _almost_ rather walk a literal minefield that look helplessly on the faces of families wooden with shock or twisted in grief. It was Hell, but it wasn't a thing compared to what _they_ were feeling. Times like those, times like today, he had to fight to keep control. To keep from giving in and letting Danny take the reins and using his soft-sincere voice to offer condolences and make promises he hoped they could keep. Some days, like today, it was like fighting a losing battle.

 

Steve shook himself out of his own head when his phone rang. He pulled one hand from the wheel of the Camero to answer.

 

“Chin.” He put the phone on speaker, and Danny twisted in his seat, as if that'd help him hear better.

 

“Max found trace fragments of wood in the wounds of all our vics; he says its from local flora. Based on that and the impact trajectory, we're looking at a homemade bow and arrows used at close range as the main weapon, though the death was, obviously, the jagged slash to the jugular.”

 

“So, we're looking for a Hunter-Tooth Fairy killing machine,” Danny said, “Great, that's great. This day keeps getting better and better.”

 

“It gets _even better_ ,” Chin said dryly, “Toxicology came back; our vics show traces of a strong sedative, used more commonly on animals than humans.”

 

Steve filed away that information, thanked Chin, hung up, and didn't say anything else. They pulled up to the most recent victim's house. The twenty-something guy with the neck tat. Joey, that was his name. He still lived with his parents, and Steve briefly wondered if he'd misjudged the kid's age.

 

Turned out, yeah he did. He had still been a teenager, poor kid (tattoo must've been got with parental permission). But lucky for them, the parents had been paranoid (just not paranoid enough). When Joey—Steve's heart went out to the mother when her voice broke, just saying his name—didn't come home the night before last, they'd tracked the GPS on his cellphone. 

 

He mutely questioned their judgment in going to the location alone, but that couldn't be helped now. It was in the middle of the woods, around a twenty minute drive away, and the mother—Mandy, Steve corrected himself, Mandy had went out looking for her son. 

 

When she'd found the cell and not the son, that's when her husband had called the cops. Too little too late. His body was found a few hours later. This tooth fairy bastard worked fast.

 

Steve doubted it would come to anything, but he wanted to go to the location and do a quick sweep. Just in case HPD had missed something.

 

~~~

 

Steve let Danny's incessant ranting about disease-infested biting insects and ferocious predators fade to white noise, constant and faintly irritating in the background.

 

“You know,” he said eventually, distracted by a set of fresh boot tracks in the dirt. He knelt to study them. “If there _are_ any 'ferocious man-eating beasts' out here, as you said, your bitching is probably just as good as a dinner bell.” He turned, grinning, and waited for Danny to explode into another laundry-list of complaints about his sanity and their current situation.

 

But he was met by silence, and no Danny in sight, just brush and brambles and tree trunks. Steve got to his feet, looking around; he thought Danny was just behind him. He hadn't been _that_ distracted, had he?

 

Steve jumped, felt a sharp sting at his neck, and jerked the thin metal dart out of his skin. He stared at the ridiculous green fuzzy thing on the end of it for a long moment before staggering around a step, hearing a triumphant whoop over his head, and looking up. His vision blurred, almost doubled, but he saw a distinct set of pearly white teeth in a tanned face. The owner of the teeth and the face scrambled down out of the tree.

 

“Thought I might get lucky, find some good game poking round here; preying on the weak's getting boring.” Shiny-teeth said, “You look like a challenge.” 

 

Steve stumbled a few more steps and leaned, trying to prop on a tree, but he misjudged the distance and grabbed at thin air. Steve got the breath knocked out of him as the ground rushed up to meet him. A leaf crackled in his ear as he shifted his head, but it sounded distant. 

 

Shiny-teeth snorted, and Steve blacked out.

 

“Or maybe not.”

 

~~~

 

Steve woke slowly, consciousness teasing him doggedly, then slipping his grasp. When he finally got the strength to open his eyes, he quickly squeezed them back closed against one hell of a headache. He went to rub a hand over his eyes, but his arm wouldn't cooperate, tugging impotently against the duct tape that had his arms bound behind his back. He shifted his weight and pushed off the floor, trying to get to his knees, but his limbs were heavy and awkward, and the room was spinning and tilting, making it a lot harder than it should have been.

 

“Relax,” a deep, feminine voice purred as Steve fell onto his back, wrenching his shoulders. A bony hand reeled him to his knees. “We haven't even go to the fun part yet.” Then Shiny-Teeth, Tooth-Fairy Bastard herself, rounded him and kicked him square in the chest, sending him reeling against the wall. Other than the boot-shaped bruise he'd undoubtedly have tomorrow, it was an improvement. His arms were still penned behind him, but at least he was sitting upright. And his vision was clearing.

 

He glanced around, then shook his head and did it again when all he saw was black shadows against gray.

 

They were in an old building, ceiling tiles broken and leaking tufts of insulation down into the broad, open room they were in now. Long-abandoned by anyone other than TFB, judging by the scuffed up coating of dust over the floor. Too small to be a warehouse (with a few corridors splitting off of their current room, which Steve assumed was the entryway), but too big and empty to be anything non-commercial. He did a mental inventory and, no, he didn't have a damn clue where he was. 

 

He looked for windows, but they were too high on the wall to be useful from his current position. All he saw was a filmy-gray tinted section of clear sky.

 

She saw him looking around.

 

“ _Normally_ ,” TFB said, sounding a little irritated, “I'd be doing this part of the hunt outside. Getting closer to nature, honing my instincts, y'know.” She turned her back to Steve, rummaged in a case he hadn't noticed in the shadows against the wall. “ _But_ ,” she pulled out a crude bow, a little twisted and obviously handmade, but deadly, “that's out of the question now, thanks to interfering parents who don't know how much of a brat their little boy really was.” She frowned, then slipped a quiver of arrows over her back. “It's a bitch to find a new hunting ground, y'know.”

 

“Where's Danny?” Steve asked, because he was certain she'd picked Danny off right before him; it'd explain the sudden silence he hadn't noticed until it was too late. And it worried him that there was no sign of anyone else in the room, with only the one line in the coating of dust to signify a body being dragged. He'd give TFB one thing, she was strong. 

 

He noticed the corded muscles in her arms as she shrugged. She'd been using a bow for a while, then.

 

“He wasn't a keeper,” she said, “so I threw him back.” Like his partner was a goddamn fish. 

 

Steve glowered, felt a rush of irritation stronger than he'd felt towards TFB so far. _What the hell's wrong with Danny?_ Then he realized that _maybe_ it was a good thing, or else they'd _both_ be trapped here. _Serial killer, dumbass_ , a little voice in the back of his mind (that sounded suspiciously _like_ Danny) said.

 

Steve schooled his face back from _fuck you and the horse you rode in on_ to mild interest. “So, why'd you do it?”

 

“Nuh-uh,” TFB said, waggling her finger at him. “My game, my rules. And rule numero uno is _shut the hell up_.” She strung her bow, tested it. “You have the count of eight until I start shooting.” She knocked an arrow.

 

 _So much for that_. Steve used the wall at his back to lever himself to his feet, then he did the only thing he could do, with an arrow pointed at his chest. He took off.

 

He zigzagged, trying to make himself a harder target, and took off for the first hallway he saw off of the main room. TFB had only got to 'seven' when he felt a sharp impact, then his leg gave out as he dodged around the corner.

 

“She cheated,” he panted aloud, “the bitch cheated.”

 

“ _ **Serial killer, dumbass**_ **.”** Came louder, more insistent (and possibly from right over his shoulder) as Steve took a half second to asses the damage. Then he felt his arm jerked around a set of broad shoulders and his balance was tipped in the other direction. He was drug out of the way, biting back a few choice, colorful words as his leg was jarred, jostled, and generally treated more roughly than it had any right to be.

 

He was a little lost as he watched a blur of black uniforms rush past them, Chin hesitating for a moment to clap him on the arm and Kono sparing him a glance, before he and Danny were past them, out in the blindingly bright sunshine. He didn't hear any shots fired, so he assumed the take-down was going smoothy (so far) so he let himself give in to the temptation to drop, Danny easing him down, against the outer wall.

 

He stared at the arrow jutting out of his thigh. It hadn't pierced deep, thanks to the weak, homemade bow (and the fact that TFB liked to toy with her victims), but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

 

“I do not like that woman,” he said, going for Understatement of the Year, thankful that adrenaline had wiped away the remaining cloudy effects of the drug she'd used.

 

Danny grinned, more relieved than amused. “I'm tempted to give her a root-canal myself, babe. You okay?”

 

Steve huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I'm fine. Got one hell of a splinter, but I'm fine.” 

 

Danny clapped him on the good leg and stood back up. “I'll be back in a minute.”

 

He closed his eyes to wait for the EMTs Danny was no doubt calling, but opened them a lot sooner than he expected when a shadow crossed his vision. He opened his eyes to see a uniform glaring down at him. Steve blinked a few times, then noticed corded arms straining the sleeves of a uniform unevenly buttoned in haste, tanned skin, and wide lips that he knew would part to show off shiny-white teeth.

 

_How the hell—_

 

But Danny was already walking back over quietly, hand on his gun, at the look on Steve's face. He wasn't quick enough. Danny drew and she kicked the gun away in a move that made Steve jealous, then hit him solid with a roundhouse, throwing him off balance. 

 

Turns out, she hadn't though that part through, because it sent the gun skittering towards Steve, who lunged and grabbed it and shot her in the leg. He followed her down with the gun. Turnabout was fair play. TFB was lucky he hadn't gone for the head-shot. 

 

Danny wrestled her over and cuffed her, then turned to Steve, winded and hair askew. But Steve didn't notice. He was too busy staring down at the arrow that had gouged deeper into his leg when he went for the gun. He felt a roil of nausea as his vision tunneled down to black. All this passing out stuff, it sucked.

 

*** 

(Alt.1)

Steve jerked upright, smacked his head on glass, and was halfway out of the car before he realized he'd been reclining in the Camero, apparently asleep. He slowly got the rest of the way out, closed the door and leaned against it, eyes closed.

 

“So, that's where you've been hiding?” 

 

“Hiding?” Steve's leg throbbed and he didn't remember anything past Danny cuffing their killer and a giant pointy stick jamming deep into his leg.

 

“Yes, _hiding_ ,” Danny said, tilting his head, “because you disappeared into thin air this morning. Don't get me wrong, I understand that you may need a little _me-time_ after your super-secret op, but we could really use your help to catch this killer.”

 

Danny's tone was rough and exasperated, but it was offset by the soft look in his eyes and way he stepped up and tugged some of the wrinkles out of Steve's shirt, then grasped his arm and gave it a squeeze.

 

“Any leads?” Steve asked slowly, remembering the oddness of that morning for the first time since...that morning.

 

“On this crazy-tooth-person? Yes. I know how much you enjoy nature, so maybe we could go on a nice romantic hike.”

 

“To the GPS location?”

 

Danny gave him a look that meant _Where else,you goof?_

 

Steve nodded. “Alright,” he said, making a quick decision and heading into HQ (getting a W _here the hell are you going? The car's right_ here _._ gesture from Danny), “But I think we should go with backup.”

 

Danny stopped him abruptly with a hand on his arm. “Who are you and what have you done with the Steve McGarrett I know?”

 

Steve shook off the hand and started walking again. “I just have a...feeling,” he said, and knew he sounded defensive.

 

“He has a _feeling_ ,” Danny muttered, watching Steve walk away. He caught back up. “Are you limping?”

 

“I'm not.” Steve said, trying to walk normally despite the pain in his thigh.

 

“You are. Why are you limping? Is that the reason you've been hiding out? Like a puppy that doesn't want to go to the vet?”

 

“I'm not a puppy,” Steve said, as they walked through the door. He ignored Chin's studious look, and had him request backup. If they were lucky, they'd catch TFB (Or Other-TFB. TFB 2.0?) in the woods, without anyone getting kidnapped. He wasn't sure _how_ but he knew that she'd be there.

 

“But you _are_ injured,” Danny said, never one to give up. “Let me see your leg.” He tugged at Steve's belt loop. Steve backed a step, surprised, and looked around wildly. Chin was on the phone, staring blankly their way, but he didn't act as if anything odd had just happened. 

 

Steve turned back to Danny, who frowned at him. Then he sighed, hooked a finger into that same belt loop, and pulled. Steve was a little embarrassed at how easily he gave in to the gentle pressure and followed Danny into his office.

 

After the blinds were drawn Danny leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

 

“Out with it.”

 

Steve didn't move.

 

Danny ran a hand over his face. “That—that...I could have said that better.”

 

“No joke,” Steve muttered.

 

“May I please see your injury, Steven, so I can judge whether or not you need to see a medical professional?”

 

“Fine,” Steve said, giving up the battle because Danny would never let it go. He dropped his pants. And frowned at what he saw. The puncture from the arrow was clean and bandaged up. When had that happened?

 

Danny pushed against the wall and crouched to get a better look, grasping the back of Steve's leg. He gently pulled the bandage off. “ _Ouch_.” Then prodded the area around the would for no other reason than to be annoying.

 

“That hurt?” he asked, with those insufferable laugh lines around his eyes, when Steve grunted.

 

“I'm fine,” Steve said, jerking up his pants.

 

“That you are,” Danny said quietly, looking up the line of him. 

 

Steve carefully zipped his pants, turning away from Danny looking up at him like _that_. 

 

“Just had to make sure, babe,” Danny said, straightening up and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before turning and opening the blinds back up.

 

~~~

 

Thanks to Steve's weird deja vu dream-that-wasn't-a-dream, they caught TFB, real name Amanda Loggins, with only two HPD officers getting tranked and a third with a broken jaw. They also got her accomplice, a woman with a summer home on the island, who just _happened to know_ all four vics.

 

The accomplice, Margaret Green (Mags, according to TF—Loggins), was just puzzled when they caught her. 

 

“They were bad people, all of them.” She shook her head, dismissing her and her cohort's murders the way some people would brush crumbs off a beloved t-shirt. “Is Manny okay?”

 

“Sweet. That's sweet,” Danny said, “you're about to go away for life and you're worried about your lady-friend.” 

 

Soon after that, Steve walked out. _Mags_ clearly had a warped view of the world. But given his own recent inability to differentiate dream from reality, he wasn't really able to throw stones. If he was awake _now,_ then how'd he dreamed about their case _beforehand?_ But if was awake _then_ , then _this_ was one of most realistic dreams he'd ever had. His leg gave a particularly poignant throb to emphasize that point.

 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He really needed a drink.

 

He felt a hand between his shoulder blades, pushing insistently. He took a few hesitant steps, then turned and frowned at Danny.

 

“Home, now. You've had a rough day.” 

 

Steve opened his mouth.

 

“And you're injured. No, it can wait. You look like you could pass out at any moment and I will not have that on my conscious.” He slid his hand a little lower and gave a more insistent shove.

 

Steve sighed and let himself be ushered out to the Camero. “ And not one word about me going mother-hen or I'll shoot you in your other leg and then make you walk home. I don't care if you used the abused puppy look or not.”

 

Steve opened his mouth, but changed his mind and just sighed. He was just gonna ask if Danny wanted to stay at his place for a few beers, anyway.

 

~~~

 

Steve felt a knot of tension he hadn't realized he was carrying ease when Danny strutted past him and walked into _his_ house like he owned the place. He shook his head and smothered a fond smile. He really should be used to it by now.

 

“What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” Danny asked, leaning back out the door.

 

Steve would have said something brilliantly witty, but he was too damn tired, so he just brushed past Danny, jumping when he smacked his ass.

 

When he turned away from Danny's cheeky grin, he froze, the flush that'd raced to his face moments before fading quickly as he paled. 

 

_This is not my house_ , said a very loud voice in his head. Though the outside was identical, there was no  _way_ ...He looked closer, recognized a few things as his own, and a little of the tension eased. But not much. There were a lot of things he'd never seen before, like a squashy armchair in the living room, and a few pictures on the wall he didn't have to do more than glance at to know they weren't supposed to be there. Along with an untidy clutter of Danny-things that had mixed with his own stuff and started to take over, like a kudzu infestation.

 

“This place looks like a tornado hit it,” he said, then shook his head.

 

“Hey, I'm hurt, here. I cleaned up _yesterday_. It's not my fault things get out of control when you're away.”

 

“ _Things_ get out of control? _You_ are out of control, my friend. You need to learn some discipline.” Steve said absently, then rounded a corner and came face to face with a picture he couldn't ignore.

 

“Yeah, we can work on that later,” Danny said, a deep bass tone to his voice that Steve had never heard before. He cataloged it away for future analysis, but didn't take his eyes off the picture.

 

_This? This was not his reality._

 

“Been a while, huh?” Danny asked, stepping behind him and propping his chin on Steve's shoulder.

 

“Not...not that long,” Steve said, mouth suddenly dry.

 

The way he knew that he was in some weird not-his-world? He sure as hell would have remembered getting suited up with Danny and holding on to him that tight, and getting  _that_ 100-watt grin directed his way.

 

He felt like an idiot. Suddenly all of the lingering touches made sense—yeah Danny was a touchy-feely guy, but today he'd been in fine form. And now Steve knew why. He wasn't  _his_ Danny. No more than the guy in the picture, though identical, was  _him_ . 

 

Steve felt something clench deep in his gut, and it felt a lot like loss. He pushed past the feeling, turned in the circle of Danny-- _Other-Danny_ 's arms, and gently pulled away.

 

“How long was I gone?” He asked, “On that op?”

 

Danny went from goofy-grin to arms-crossed-and-angry in milliseconds flat. 

 

Steve would have enjoyed listening to the rant that followed, if the life of Other-him hadn't more than likely hung in the balance. 

 

~~~

 

Steve gleaned from Dan— _Other-Danny_ that Other-Steve had left on some sort of secret mission to Timbuck-freaking-Tu with little more than a hi, bye, or kiss my ass. Danny's words.

 

That didn't help all that much. Plan B was to snoop around on Other-Steve's computer and see if he could find anything relating to the op and possibly to Other-Steve's current location. They were damn-near identical, right? Maybe they had the same passwords. He nosed around until he found a laptop that looked like his, and repressed a triumphant _ha!_ with a little difficulty.

 

“What are you doing?” Of course Danny had followed him.

 

“Just have to tie up some loose ends.”

 

Danny held up a hand to express _Are you serious? Now?_ Then he twisted it around and raised it in defeat. “Fine. Do what you have to do. I, for one, am taking a shower and going to bed.”

 

“Goodnight,” Steve said, firing up his computer. He heard an annoyed huff, and ducked his head down in the pretense of studying the keyboard, hiding a grin.

 

~~~

 

“Are you coming to bed any time soon, or are you trying to see how long you can go without sleep again?” Danny asked.

 

“Gimme a minute,” Steve said, distracted. Other-him was starting to piss him off. The first couple of passwords had been easy to guess, but Steve was getting to the juicy stuff, and they were getting cryptic. That, or his brain was slowing down, getting lazy and sluggish. He massaged his temple, then blinked until the screen came back in to sharp focus.

 

Danny bulldozed on when Steve didn't say anything else. “Because, if I remember correctly (and I do) that did not end well. You are _not fun_ when delirious from lack of sleep. Frankly, you're dangerous.” 

 

He sighed when Steve just mumbled and dropped his head onto the desk. “And I still get a twinge of embarrassment when I remember having to call Kono in for backup, so please—“ Danny tilted his head, “you just passed out, didn't you?”

 

***

(Home)

Steve's neck was at an odd angle and his leg was a solid, all-consuming ache. Last thing he remembered was waging war against a laptop in order to figure out where Other-Steve had disappeared to. Steve jerked fully awake. Which, unfortunately, meant he jerked himself right off of the couch he'd been asleep on and onto the cold, hard floor with a loud _thump_ and a strangled curse.

 

He really should be used to waking up in strange places by this point, Steve mused, blinking up at the dark, familiar ceiling for few long moments. He heard a distant grumble and the scuff of bare feet on that same cold floor as he mentally thanked the couch for not being all that far from the ground.

 

“Comfortable?” 

 

Steve tilted his head back until he saw bare feet attached to a pair of pajama pants, a t-shirt tight against a broad chest, and Danny's upside-down face. He blinked a few times, glanced at his surroundings.

 

“There's a whole warren of dust-bunnies under your couch. They should probably be dealt with.” He said feebly. 

 

“Is that why you came over and broke in to my apartment, to diss my housekeeping skills? After disappearing mysteriously from a hospital bed without a word to _anyone_?” Danny crossed his arms.

 

Well, if Steve _was_ just having delusions and hallucinations, then at least he wasn't falling into a stupor or going comatose. That was good, right?

 

“I...had to tie up a few loose ends,” Steve said, then wondered if _every_ Danny made that face when he used the phrase. Then he realized that it might also have something to do with him still lying flat on his back in the floor. 

 

He sat up, then took Danny's hand to get to his feet, then promptly dropped back onto the couch with a groan. His leg was not very happy with him.

 

“I'll get you some painkillers,” Danny muttered, then stopped halfway out of the room and turned around. “Don't move. Couches can be tricky; I don't want you to wind up in the floor again.”

 

“Bite me,” Steve said to Danny's retreating back, but didn't think Danny would reply. 

 

He heard a quiet “Maybe later,” from the other room, muffled by the sound of pills being being jangled around .

 

Steve took Dr. Danny's recommended dosage, then relaxed back into the cushions of the couch. Then he bolted upright so quickly Danny threw his hands into a defensive position and made a very undignified noise that Steve would make fun of later.

 

“What? What's wrong?”

 

“Mags,” Steve said quickly, berating himself for forgetting. To be fair though, dealing with one reality was hard enough, but _two_...If that crap didn't stop soon he was gonna have to start taking notes or risk losing his mind. 

 

“Mags?”

 

“Margaret Green.” Steve said, “The Tooth-Hunter's accomplice. We've got to find her.”

 

“She had an accomplice? Why didn't I know that?”

 

_Same reason I didn't, Danno,_ we  _didn't catch her._

 

Steve started pacing in the cramped living room. “She's probably on the run by now. We need to—“ He wobbled unsteadily, even though his leg wasn't hurting. “Need to check her summer house, and the—“ he wobbled again, and propped on the wall for support, but it was a little further away than he expected, so he stumbled.

 

“Okay,” Danny was suddenly beside him, gripping the arm that wasn't holding up the wall. 

 

“What'd you give me, Danny?”

 

“The good stuff.” Danny shrugged, “How was I supposed to know you'd go all adrenaline-rush and let it go to your head. Hey, I bet your leg doesn't hurt anymore, does it?”

 

“No,” Steve said, trying to remember what he'd been talking about before Danny had distracted him. “I...there's something about...something. We've gotta go.”

 

“ _We_ are going nowhere, Steven. _I_ am going to call Chin and Kono and we're going to deal with this, alright?” Danny said, tugging him off-center so he had to lean on him heavily for a moment before getting both feet firmly back under him. Danny led/pulled him away from the living room and the exit where they _should_ be heading.

 

Steve hummed an affirmative, though he wasn't really listening. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Shouldn't we be...” He let it drop. “Where're we going?”

 

“You are going to bed.”

 

“Bed?”

 

“Yes, bed. And I don't want any lip about it, since you obviously can't be trusted with the couch.” Danny grumbled the last bit, but Steve could hear a fuzzy lilt of amusement to his tone. Or maybe it was the medication. Probably was.

 

“Why didn't you tell me this before I got you high,” Danny muttered, dropping him unceremoniously on his bed.

 

“Forgot,” Steve said groggily, snagging a pillow and toeing off his shoes as Danny grabbed his phone from the nightstand. 

 

“Of course you did.” He turned to his phone, then hesitated. “Don't fall out of bed and hurt yourself.”

 

“No promises,” Steve said without opening his eyes.

 

“Goof,” Danny said, shaking his head. He turned back to his phone and headed out.

 

~~~

 

When Steve woke up sunlight was slanting at an unfamiliar angle across an unfamiliar wall. He blinked a few times, trying to brush off residual grogginess, and remembered where he was. He sat up suddenly, and noticed Danny standing in the doorway, propped against the frame.

 

Danny straightened up quickly and walked in, on the pretense of grabbing a tie from his closet.

 

“Morning,” Steve said, rubbing his face.

 

“I am so glad you didn't say _good_ in front of that,” Danny grumbled, focused on adjusting his tie.

 

“Long night?”

 

“Yes. It was. But we caught Margaret Green, on her way to the airport. Didn't even bother using an alias; thought she was home free.”

 

Steve sighed. At least that was taken care of. Now all he had to do was figure out if it was possible to get back to...that other place, and save...himself. When he looked back up, Danny was studying him.

 

“I just have one question,” he paused, “What was the purpose of coming here and attacking my couch?”

 

“I didn't a—if anything, your couch attacked _me.”_ Steve realized the ridiculousness of what he'd just said and took a breath. “I...don't remember,” he said, but he knew Danny didn't buy it. What could he say? 

 

 _Oh, I just fell asleep in this place that's either only in my mind or that might be a parallel universe and I woke up on your uncomfortable couch. And, by the way, we're totally a couple in this parallel and I think I need to save Me 2.0 from some unknown assailants but I don't even know how I got there. Or how to get back._ Yeah, that would go over really well.

 

Danny was still watching him, and there was something shrewd in his eyes.

 

“I mean, you could've just _called_ instead of breaking in and getting into a fight with my couch (and losing), but you didn't. Why is that?”

 

“I dunno.” 

 

Danny pointed at him and narrowed his eyes. “I'll tell you why.”

 

“Please?” Steve didn't know where Danny was going, but he was gearing up for something and there was a twenty percent chance that it'd be illuminating.

 

“Admit it; you couldn't deal with not knowing.” He crossed his arms. He was doing that a lot these days. Or..had that been the other one?

 

“Not knowing what?”

 

“Exactly!” Danny said, “Mr. I-had-a-giant-stick-in-my-leg couldn't deal with not knowing what I was up to for the _few hours_ he took to recuperate.” He paused for effect. “So you broke into my house to spy on me, and fell asleep.”

 

“You got me, Danno. I just can't stay away from you, and I know you're a frail and delicate person, so I was worried about your well-being after this case. _That's_ the real reason I'm here.” Steve fought to keep his voice even, concerned.

 

“I really hate you.”

 

“No you don't.”

 

~~~

 

Steve went back to his place long enough to get a shower and a change of clothes. After seeing it cluttered and claimed by Danny in the...Other-place (which he'd fondly named Alt.One), it felt bigger a lot bigger, and a little empty. He left quickly, trying not to think about it, and headed to HQ. 

 

He took a few steps inside HQ and felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. Chin looked up in time to see him stagger, and trotted over, grabbing his arm.

 

“Alright, Boss?” 

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve nodded curtly and straightened up. Maybe he shouldn't have driven in. Apparently whatever Danny gave him hadn't quite worn off. He smiled reassuringly at Chin, trying to drive away that concerned frown. It worked. A little.

 

Chin headed back to the computer, throwing a few glances over his shoulder. Steve squared his shoulders and took a few more steps, then a stronger crash of vertigo overpowered him and he stumbled. Steve fell on his face on a sidewalk that hadn't been there moments before.

 

_Sonofabitch._

 

***

 

(Alt.2)

“Alright, brotha?” Chin asked, offering him a hand up. Wait. It wasn't the Chin _he_ knew. He was suited up in a HPD uniform.

 

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking the hand up and checking the new scrape on his brow. He was getting tired of the universe using him as its own personal punching bag.

 

“McGarrett, right?” Chin asked, tilting his head.

 

Steve nodded absently, mentally fuming at the evilness of Fate or Destiny or whatever deity or idea kept throwing him around like a ping pong ball.

 

“You started up a task force not all that long ago, right? My cousin's on your team.”

 

Steve jerked his head around at that.  _And you aren't?_ Maybe he should...why  _else_ would he be here?

 

“There's, uh...” Steve didn't know how he knew, but he knew that _this_ wasn't Alt. One. _Alt. Two it is_. He didn't know a damn thing about Alt. Two, but he had a feeling... “There might be an opening on my team.”

 

“Really?”

 

“You should check it out, brah.”

 

Chin nodded, gave him a quick smile. “I'll be sure to do that.”

 

Steve shook his hand, then started striding away like he was in a hurry to get somewhere. He didn't want to hang around anywhere long enough to meet...himself. He had the strangest idea that that would be a bad thing. He walked past a few scroungy shops before doubling back and staring in the window of one. It was a comic book store with an issue of  _9_ _th_ _Wonders_ , whatever that was, on display out front. One of the characters on the cover looked very familiar. He shrugged it off as a coincidence, but. 

 

_Huh. There's an idea._ Maybe Max (if he could find him here) could help him out. Yes, Steve realized the ludicrousness of going to comic-lover for advice on his reality, but Steve had a hunch and he was fresh out of other ideas. And what could it hurt? 

 

~~~

 

“I am flattered that you thought to come to me with your predicament, McGarrett,” Max said, giving him a sharp nod, “but I do find it difficult to believe.”

 

“So do I.” Steve sighed. “and I'm living through it.”

 

“It _is_ fortuitous that you thought to bring this problem to me, actually,” Max said with a rare smile, “because I have always had an affinity for the workings of the Space-Time Continuum.”

 

“That's a good thing, right?” Steve asked. Maybe he could actually figure out what the hell was going on with him. More or less. Probably less.

 

“Correct.”

 

Steve waited for Max to continue.

 

“I feel that I must give you a disclaimer: my studies have been theoretical and largely based around works of fiction.”

 

“Okay.” Steve said, “My life _feels_ like a work of fiction at the moment, so that might not be a bad thing.”

 

“As long as you understand that.”

 

“I do.” _Max, please get to the point._

 

“Theoretically, it would seem that your very atoms are being displaced and _pulled through_ by some unknown force to a parallel universe with striking similarities to your own.”

 

“Univers _es_ ,” Steve muttered.

 

“There have been more than one?”

 

Steve nodded. 

 

“Ah.” Max nodded along with him, then paused for a moment. “Taking _that_ under consideration, it is my opinion that you lack an adequate tether to your own world. So you have begun to shift, with increasing frequency, into other worlds. Am I correct?”

 

“You are.” Steve said, impressed. “So, I need a _tether._ Is that a technical term, or...Wait, how did you know that?”

 

“I—“ Max hesitated. “I am not sure.” He frowned.

 

“Do you know how I can get back to my own...place?”

 

“Close your eyes and focus on what separates _your_ universe from all others. Visualize yourself being pulled back across into your own time and place. Like this.” Max squeezed his eyes closed and schooled his face into a look of fierce concentration.

 

“And how do you know _that_?” Steve asked, and Max opened his eyes again, looking puzzled.

 

“I...have no idea, McGarrett.” Max shook it off. “So, are you going to try it?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, “there's just something I have to check on first. Thanks, Max.”

 

“You are welcome. If at all possible (and if you are not merely suffering from delusions) let me know what happens.”

 

_Thanks for the vote of confidence, Max._ “I'll be sure to do that.”

 

~~~

 

It should _not_ have taken Steve so damn long to fine Five-0 HQ. He blamed unfamiliar street names and landmarks that were just a _little_ off from what he was used to. It was like his own brain was working against him, making connections that weren't there in this reality.

 

He found HQ just in time. He pulled back into the relative safety of shade under a tree, then leaned against the tree and casually thumbed through his phone, just out of other-him—Alt Two-Steve's—line of sight as he shook Chin's hand. Steve put the phone ( _Out of coverage area. Go figure._ ) to his ear as a passerby eyed him curiously. He was thankful, for once, for all the glass walls and wide windows. He smothered a grin when he saw Kono walk in, trying not to look too pleased. And failing spectacularly, he noted fondly.

 

At least that seemed to work out, he thought, feeling a flush of warmth, contentment. So there apparently _was_ something useful about the nagging not-quite-instinct feeling that'd led him to talk to Chin. Good to know. 

 

Steve pocketed his phone and closed his eyes, still propped against the tree for support. As soon as he cleared his mind he felt a nagging, almost itchy, restless _something_ in the back of his mind. When he focused on it, the feeling grew stronger, until he got an annoyingly-familiar flash of vertigo. And he fell. He braced himself for the impact, but relaxed when he landed on something soft, with a creak of springs.

***

 

(Home)

Steve shifted around on the bed until he was comfortable and stared at the ceiling.

 

“Steven, I understand that you have boundary issues, but are you sure this is appropriate?” Danny asked evenly.

 

Steve blamed post reality-jumping disorientation for not noticing he was in Danny's bed. Also, for not noticing Danny was there too. He reflexively froze, but made himself relax and roll onto his side to look at Danny, feigning confusion.

 

“Are you the pot or the kettle?” Steve asked. “Last night you couldn't wait to get me into bed. How was I supposed to know it was a one-time deal?”

 




“That's funny,” Danny said, frowning at him as if it were anything _but_.

 




“Now I just feel cheap. _Used_.” 

 

“Mmm,” Danny said eloquently and covered his head with a pillow. Steve didn't know if that'd been meant as a laugh, growl, or a real, new-fangled word he was just unfamiliar with. He grinned, since Danny couldn't see it.

 

Then he realized something he should have noticed sooner. Every time, since that first weird nap-jump, he'd come back around Danno. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but...

 

Max had said something about a needing a tether to bring him back...home. Maybe Danny was it. Steve sat up and massaged his temple. Maybe he should go talk to Max again. Or _this_ Max, for the first time. It probably wouldn't help the headache starting at his temple, but it might help him figure out... _something._ Steve sat up reluctantly.

 

“Where're you going _now_?” 

 

Steve had just about made it to the bedroom door. He turned back to see Danny staring at him, bleary-eyed and irritated. 

 

“First you throw me into your bed, then you get mad when I hop into bed _with_ you. Now, you don't want me to leave?” 

 

“I didn't say that. Also, I'm too tired to argue with you. Go away.” Danny covered his head with a pillow again.

 

“I'll be back,” Steve said, then winced.

 

Danny jerked the pillow away and propped on an elbow. “ _Schwarzenegger,_ really? I though you were better than that, Steve.” Danny sighed, disappointed. Of course he'd gone there.

 

“I didn't mean to—I just meant that I'm not going far, alright.”

 

“Hasta la vista; go with God. Just don't wake me up if you break into my apartment again.” Steve tried not to look too pleased. In Danny-speak, that was damn-near an invitation.

 

“Try not to miss me too much, Danno.” 

 

The only reply Steve got to that was a pillow to the back of the head. 

 

~~~

 

Steve called Max and got an address to meet him. Once he found the address, he double-checked that he was at the right place and, just for good measure, checked again. He made his way inside cautiously though a door that hung crookedly on loose hinges.

 

It was dark, smoky, and grotty, with more than a few rough sorts who looked like they were itching for a fight.

 

Max waved at him from the bar, and Steve made his way over, making sure not to do anything to offend any of the roughnecks between him and there. He wasn't in a barroom brawl sort of mood.

 

“I, uh, didn't expect to see you in a place like this,” he said, leaning against the bar when he got to Max. 

 

“I'm more dark and mysterious than you know, McGarrett,” Max said levelly, then took a sip from his neon-bright drink.

 

“Of course,” Steve nodded, “sorry.”

 

“Why did you contact me?” So Max wasn't much of a fan of foreplay. Smalltalk. Max wasn't much of a fan of smalltalk. That was a better way to put it.

 

Steve cleared his throat. “I need some advice.”

 

“Then I am sorry, but I have a horrible track record concerning giving advice to others.”

 

“You wouldn't happen to have 'an affinity for the workings of the Space-Time Continuum' would you?”

 

Max tilted his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. How—“ He nodded a quick greeting to a squash-faced man whose nose had obviously been broken a few times. The guy grinned, showing off a few gaps in his teeth, and ordered his drink. Max turned back to Steve. “How did you know that?”

 

“It's a long story,” Steve sighed, ordering a beer.

 

~~~

 

“No.” Max said seriously, after listening studiously to Steve's insane story. “The alternative version of myself was incorrect. I am fairly certain of that.”

 

“How's that?” Steve asked. He'd let his guard down a bit, since there hadn't been any gunfights or pool cues broken over anyone's head in the past half-hour. But he had a feeling it was just a matter of time. “Other than the tether thing. I think I've already got one of those.”

 

“You are correct in assuming that you, indeed, have a tether. Otherwise you would be adrift, as it were, in an endless stream of universes instead of being pulled back to your Home-verse in between.”

 

“That makes sense,” Steve said, “or, at least as much sense as _anything_ in my life has made in the past few days.”

 

Max was twisting his now-empty glass around in his hands. He was frowning.

 

“You clearly have a tether, it's just...weak, stretchable. What you _need_ is an anchor, to keep you _fixed_ here, instead of bouncing back and forth. Like someone on a bungee cord, if you will.”

 

“I need an anchor.” Steve said slowly.

 

“An anchor to your, _our,_ universe. Though the method of creating such a thing, even theoretically, is mysterious.” Max clarified. “The formation of a metaphysical anchor would probably be easier if we could discover what, exactly, keeps pulling you away from the Here-and-Now.”

 

“Actually,” Steve said, “I have an idea about that.” In Alt.One, he'd been constantly restless, like he had something he _should_ be doing, but wasn't. In retrospect, it was easy to notice that whole D _id I leave the iron on?_ mentality. He was supposed to get Alt.One-Steve home safe, but he hadn't known that until it was too late. He repressed a wave of irritation. 

 

In Alt.Two, he'd felt  _comfortable_ after he saw that his team was together  _there_ . It wasn't just coincidence and instinct that made him run into Chin as soon as he got there, and talk to him about Five-0. All this shit had to be happening for a reason. Otherwise, it was just the universe (or multiple universes, actually) playing tug-o-war with him for the sheer hell of it and the idea that it was all coincidence was so maddening that he wouldn't even entertain the notion.

 

Steve noticed that he was drumming his fingers jerkily on the bar. He stopped and took a few breaths of noxious, smoky bar-air. He realized that there was a familiar tension seeping into his bones and his mind started to feel itchy.

 

“Thank you for your help, Max,” he said quickly, and gave in to the _pull_. He just hoped the bar was dark enough and the patrons drunk enough to not notice him disappear. 

 

Max blinked a few times and stared at the empty stool where Steve had been sitting a moment before. He turned to the bartender. “I'll have another drink, please,” he said, “but make sure  _this one_ is not a virgin.”

 

***

 

(Alt.1)

 

Steve opened his eyes to dank darkness and silence, broken only by a thin shimmering line of light and ragged breathing.

 

“I know your there,” a rough, hoarse voice said to his left, “I don't know how you got there, but I can hear you breathing.”

 

Steve thought it was going to be a lot harder to find...himself, but apparently not. Maybe Fate was giving him a break. He wasn't going to complain. He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a penlight.

 

“I'm here to help,” he said, before shining the light. Other-him, Alt.1-Steve, squinted and covered his eyes with hands tied together with a rough twist of rope. “I'll get you out of here,” he said, crossing the room and working at the knot on the rope, “wherever here is.” 

 

A1-Steve looked up sharply at that. “You don't know where we are?”

 

“Tough knot.” Steve muttered, then gave up and sawed through the rope with his pocket knife. The wrists under the rope were bruised, but nothing seemed to be broken. And A1-S didn't act like he was having any trouble moving when he stole Steve's light and knocked him for a loop, shining the light in his eyes and wrapping a hand around his neck.

 

Steve felt a strange electric jolt at the point of contact, and the hand loosened almost immediately, but he chose to stay very still while A1-S grabbed his chin and tilted his head the other way.

 

“I'll be damned,” A1-Steve said quietly. “I would say that these bastards slipped me some psychotropic drugs, but I know better than that.” He leaned back on his heels and shined the light on Steve. “So, who the hell are you?”

 

“I don't think you'd believe it, brotha,” Steve said.

 

“Fair enough.” A1-S shrugged. “So, are we gonna get outta here or stare at each other until the damn guards come back?”

 

“I vote we get the hell outta here,” Steve said, getting to his feet and offering A1-S a hand up.

 

“Again with the static?” A1-S rubbed his hand on his pants and glared at Steve like it was his fault. He'd been held hostage for days; he deserved to be irritable.

 

 

Steve made his way to the thin line of light that signified the doorway and listened for a long moment. He could feel A1-Steve standing right behind him, hovering. He finally straightened up. 

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“So, you're here to rescue me, right?”

 

“Yes,” Steve said gruffly, pushing at the door, making sure to listen for footsteps outside.

 

“I just have one question.” A1-S paused. “Wouldn't that be easier from the other side of the door?”

 

Steve took a breath and counted to five, since he didn't have the patience to get to ten. “I can't control where I wind up. You should be thankful I'm here at all.”

 

“So that's not at all cryptic.”

 

“It doesn't seem like you're very forthcoming with the details either, _Steven_.” Danny always used the full-name on _him_ , so he thought he'd try it out for once. It felt nice. Satisfying.

 

A1-S sighed. “My team walked into a trap; at least two of my men are dead. I'm the only one they took alive, but apparently I'm low priority. Haven't even got a look at the head-honcho yet.”

 

Steve was silent. He listened hard, then hit the door with a few well-placed kicks and broke the lock. He shoved the door open, gave A1-S his ankle piece, and walked out into the light. 

 

“Which way?” Steve asked, gun up at the ready as he waited for the guards to investigate the noise.

 

“How exactly did you find me without knowing the way out?”

 

“Long story.”

 

“Most stories are,” A1-S said dryly, “this way.” 

 

Steve followed him, ducked a fist flying towards his face, and picked off the first guard as they rounded a corner. A1-Steve took down the second with a sleeper, then searched him for weapons and grabbed a handgun and ammo from his belt. Steve stayed behind, covering Other-him's back, as he led the way out.

 

“So, I'm from another...place,” he said awkwardly, “and I somehow wound up _here_ , but not here exactly, in Hawaii, so Five-0 probably didn't even realize you were missing until yesterday. Since I accidentally impersonated you.” Steve gave up.

 

“You're right,” A1-S said, “I don't believe a word of that. Mainly because a lot of those words mixed together the way you just did don't make any sense.” A1-S pressed himself to the wall and peered around the next turn in the hall.

 

Steve shrugged, then plastered himself to the wall when two men caught sight of them from the direction of the exit. One fired a shot, but it went wide and flew into the wall at his back when Steve got him in the shoulder, then dropped when another shot whizzed by his ear. A1-S got the second shooter.

 

“Close call.” A1-S shook his head, then gave Steve a hand up, and they shouldered what they _thought_ was a back door open.

 

And all hell broke loose. They ducked and rolled at the same instant, when shots pinged off the side of a rusted truck on the far side of the dirty clearing between them and the treeline, _from_ the damn trees, while other shooters off to their left kicked up dust at their feet.

 

They took off for a pile of dirt near a new-dug dirt track to the right and hunkered down, temporarily out of the range of fire.

 

“We need to—“

 

“Take out the ones in the trees—“

 

“And make a run for it.”

 

“They're too damn many.”

 

Steve nodded at the same moment that A1-Steve did. So that was a little creepy. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for a long moment without taking action. 

 

“So, you and Danny, huh?” Steve asked, and wasn't that one of the most awkward things he'd ever said.

 

“Yeah, me and Danny,” A1-Steve said, with a goofy grin that didn't fit the whole getting shot at and reloading his gun thing that was going on. Then he looked up at Steve and frowned.

 

“You mean, you and him aren't—“

 

“No.”

 

“But you want—“

 

“No!”

 

A1-Steve grinned at him. “Our brains apparently work the same way, _Steve_ , remember that.” He ducked out, took a shot, and Steve followed.

 

Steve sighed when they got to cover behind the rusted-out truck. “I don't—I didn't...not until _your_ Danny kissed me, at least. Since then, I've—“

 

“You kissed _my_ Danny?” A1-S's jaw clenched, and Steve held up his hands. The guy was armed, and like he said, their minds worked the same way.

 

“I didn't do it; _he_ did.” Steve paused for a second. “And he thought I was you, so, not really Danny's fault either.”

 

A1-Steve darted out from behind the truck long enough to take out a gunman in the treeline, while Steve took out a guy in the open, trying to line up a shot at him. After that, the shooting was more staggered, but A1-S still didn't look too happy as they made it to the cover of the trees. But then he nodded.

 

“Fine.” He grabbed a second gun as they passed a felled enemy.

 

“Okay,” Steve said, reloading his weapon.

 

“Don't do it again.” A1-S broke through a patch of brambles and found some sort of wildlife-track to follow.

 

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Steve said, cocking his head and listening for human movement, other than their own muffled footfalls.

 

“I've got this,” A1-S said abruptly “I can take care of myself from here.”

 

“You're just pissed at me for kissing your...boyfriend?” He remembered the picture in their house, all suits and smiles. “Husband?”

 

“We prefer _partner_ ,” A1-S said stiffly, “and I might get over it if you'd stop bringing it—“

 

Steve held up a hand and A1-S froze and went silent. They dropped, synchronized again, into a crouch and pointed guns in the direction of the noise.

 

“Commander McGarrett?” the voice was hesitant.

 

“Show yourself.”

 

Steve dropped back as the soldier came into sight, letting A1-S take charge.

 

“Alright, soldier?” A1-S asked.

 

The soldier nodded. “We lost Lands and Morgan. Currently scouting the facility for a rescue mission, though that, obviously, isn't necessary.”

 

A1-S nodded to him, then glanced back at Steve. “I'll be two minutes behind you, Oakes.”

 

Oakes ducked his head and disappeared silently back the way he'd came.

 

Steve stood up and stepped back into sight. A1-S clasp his hand, and Steve felt that same strange electric jolt down his arm.

 

“You need a way out of here?”

 

“I have my own exit strategy,” Steve said crookedly.

 

“Thank you.” A1-S looked him straight in the eye, clapped him on the arm.

 

“You're welcome.”

 

Steve waited for him to disappear in the same direction Oakes had gone before closing his eyes. He poked at the itchy spot inside his mind and let the vertigo wash over him. He sighed when he fell back on Danny's bed again. 

 

***

(Home)

The room was blue-gray with the approach of dawn, but he just lay back, pillowing his head on his hands. He was very aware of Danny's warmth and even breathing beside him.

 

He closed his eyes. And felt an itchy restlessness grating at the back of his mind. _No_. The feeling grew stronger. _I just saved me from a terrorist cell or something (even though I wouldn't tell me what was really going on there). I deserve at least a nap. Fuck off._ He rolled onto his side and put a pillow over his head. 

 

His _skin_ started to burn, like there was a fire underneath it, flames licking up from the inside out. He twisted and instinctively reached for Danny, but he'd already been ripped away. Helpless to fight off the goddamn universe's terrifying fascination with him.

 

He opened his eyes to a deserted beach, panting and trying to forget that all-consuming burn, with a face full of sand.

 

***

 

(Alt.3)

Steve wiped the sand from his face and got to his knees, staring across the empty beach silver-gray in the fading dark. He heard low voices carrying from a dip to his left and eased in that direction.

 

Kono and Chin were sitting, staring out over the water as the moon set and sun inched up at their backs. Kono had her knees pulled up, arms looped around them, head resting on one arm. Chin was putting his phone back in his pocket.

 

“He said he can't make it,” Chin said evenly.

 

“You knew he wouldn't go,” Kono said without looking up.

 

Chin sighed. “Danny _has_ to get past this. He didn't sound good.”

 

“Are you surprised?” She lifted her head to look at him.

 

Steve dropped to the sand when Kono looked up. He felt that it'd be bad to be seen.  _What's wrong with Danny? Is he sick or something? How'm I supposed to fix_ that _?_

 

Kono shook her head. “We both know he blames himself for Steve's...for what happened to Steve. It's no wonder that he doesn't feel like he can face Mary when she flies back in.”

 

“I know,” Chin said, voice broken. He cleared his throat, trying to cover it up. “But she _does_ want to talk to us, and who knows? It might do Danny some good. He hasn't been the same since the...funeral.” He went quiet, raked a hand over his face.

 

Kono dipped her head, hair masking her face from Steve's view. “I'll call him tomorrow, ask again,” she said, “we can't give up on him.”

 

“I know,” Chin said, “I know.”

 

~~~

 

Steve waited for Chin and Kono to leave the beach before getting up. He didn't want to risk being seen. Not—not with A3-Steve being dead. 

 

He refused to have an emotional response to that. It just meant his mission here would be a little more complicated. He'd have to be a ghost, somehow manage to manipulate his surroundings out of sight in order to help A3-Danny get past it. At least Fate was about as subtle as a firetruck with its sirens on when it came to _this_ mission. There was that.

 

_Best way to stay out of sight_ ... Steve took his phone out of his pocket.  _Out of coverage area_ . “Right. Damn. That was smart.” He checked to see how he was on cash. Not too bad. As long as the money here wasn't one of those weirdly different details about Alt.3, like the stop-signs being an odd shade of yellow, he shouldn't have any trouble getting a prepaid phone.

 

~~~

 

He eyed the cheap little phone dubiously, but plugged it into one of the cafe's wall outlets anyway, and sipped his coffee. The phone blinked on, and Steve realized he wasn't thinking things through very well.  _Or maybe you're just an idiot_ .

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, then dialed Danny's number from memory. Couldn't hurt to try.

 

“Hello?” Danny's voice was rough and cracked, but it was him on the line.

 

Steve put on a thick accent and hoped Danny wouldn't recognize his voice. “Wrong number.” He hung up quickly, before he was tempted to say anything else.

 

He opened a new text message and stared blankly for a long minute.

 

** S: Hello.  ** _Smooth._

**D: Who is this?**

**S: A friend.**

**D: Of course it is.**

**S: It's not your fault.** Oh yeah, he was subtle.

 

The phone was silent for so long that Steve didn't think Danny would answer.

 

**D: Could've cuffed him to the car.**

**S: He'd just take the car with him.**

**D: True. the bastard.** Why did that feel like an endearment?

**S: You miss him.**

**D: No shit.**

 

Steve shook his head and gulped down the rest of his lukewarm coffee. Why had he thought that would be a good idea? He wasn't a damn grief counselor. And trying to do it through texts was just painful. But if he wasn't supposed to do _that_ , then what? It's not like he could go back in time, or snap his fingers and bring A3-Steve back, or take his place.

 

He couldn't get Danny's rough, gravelly, tired voice out of his head. If only he could...

 

Steve frowned and dialed a different number. He threw on the same accent he'd used earlier, like an old, uncomfortable pair of shoes.

 

“Max,” he said, before Max said more than hello, “I have a question about the Space-Time Continuum.”

 

Max was silent, considering, for a long moment. Curiosity won. “Ask away.”

 

“ _Theoretically,_ would it be possible for a person who can travel across multiple universes to take someone else with them?”

 

“Hm.” Max said, “If one _could_ travel in such a way, could they pass along their immunity to the normal restraints of reality? That is a fascinating idea.”

 

“So, is it possible?”

 

“It _could_ work,” Max said slowly, and Steve relaxed a little. “ _Or_ it might fracture the relative order of the universe, spiderweb disorder out into the multi-verse, and end life as we know it in a raging inferno of chaos.”

 

“Oh. So that's a no-go.”

 

“You act as if I am speaking hard facts and not theoretical pseudo-scientific pablum,sir. Who is this? And are you sure you're well?”

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for your help.” Steve hung up the phone and realized that, maybe, he wasn't. This place was throwing him off. He obviously hadn't been thinking clearly. But he was using his brain _now_. Better late than never. It's not like Danny would leave Gracie, anyway. It's not like Steve would even think, in his normal _rational_ mind, about even considering to ask him to. Besides, two Dannys in one universe? What had he been _thinking?_ The world couldn't handle it.

 

But that didn't mean he couldn't help him.

 

Steve finally left the cafe and headed for Danny's apartment. Just to have a look, that's all. He pulled out his phone again. 

 

 **S: Not your fault.** He was nothing if not thorough.

 

 **D: Yes it is.** It took Danny less than a minute to respond. Steve had a feeling that was an indicator of the amount of guilt he was carrying. He tripped over rise in the sidewalk as he typed his reply.

 

**S: It isn't.**

**D: But it is.** Steve sighed. The lights were on at Danny's place, the curtains inched open. That was lucky.

 

**S: Is not. I can do this all night, Danny.**

 

Steve didn't get a reply to that one, but he could see Danny, sprawled on his couch, staring at his phone. And _that's_ when he started feeling like a creep. He ignored the feeling.

 

**S: You should go see Mary with C &K tomorrow.**

 

No reply again, but Danny rubbed a hand over his face. Steve had to lean heavily against the tree out front to stop himself from walking up to Danny's door and knocking.

 

 **S: Gonna go?** Danny tossed his phone onto the coffee table and crossed his arms.

 

 **S: Danny?** Steve saw his head twist around sharply, presumably when the phone beeped at him.

 

 **S: Danny?** Steve shook his head. He was being juvenile, but what else could he do? At least Danny hadn't blocked his number yet. That was a good sign.

 

 **S: I think you should go. Stop going for your Hermits United card.** Danny grabbed his phone as if it were against his better judgment and read through the past few texts. He shook his head.

 

**D: If it means you'll stop irritating me, yes I'll go.**

 

 **S: Good.** Steve suppressed a sigh. Then grinned when Danny made a face at his phone.

 

 **S: But shave first. You look like a hobo.** Steve saw the flash of a grin, but it faded quickly. Something relaxed deep in his gut anyway.

 

**D: Maybe that's what I was going for**

**.**

**S: Then you hit it right on the mark, babe.** Another small quirk of a smile.

 

 **S: And you ARE going?** Didn't hurt to be certain.

 

**D: Yes Stop nagging. I promise that I will go, happy?**

 

 **S: Yes.** Steve was already feeling that familiar itchy, _I-need-to-go_ feeling when his phone beeped again. He didn't think he should leave yet; he hadn't really _done_ anything. But he felt the flush sweep over his skin, precursor to the fire. Steve fought past the burn long enough to check the phone. 

 

**D: Thanks**

 

He sighed, relaxed in to the _pull_ , and hoped that he'd made a difference. Then he fumbled the phone as he closed it, cursed, made a grab for it, but missed. _Shit_. So he'd just dropped a phone covered in his prints, with which he'd been talking to Danny, in front of his apartment. In a universe where he was dead. No way would that come back to bite him in the ass.

 

***

(Home)

Steve fell into step with Danno without more than a stumble. Hey, he didn't fall over, must be getting the hang of that whole traveling-thing.

 

Danny jumped a little. “Where'd you come from?” he asked, stopping and crossing his arms.

 

“I was just...over there...and thought I'd catch up.” Steve said lamely, pointing over his shoulder.

 

“Just over there, huh?” Danny asked, and Steve knew a storm was brewing. 

 

But he felt an itchiness in the back of his mind. _No_. _Fate, you are an asshole._ Steve fought it for a moment, until the fire started burning under his skin. His hand shot out and latched onto Danny's arm, of its own accord. Which was a good thing, apparently, since the burning faded and the restless-wrongness dropped down to a manageable level.

 

Danny frowned and tried to shake him off, but Steve kept a firm grip on him.

 

“Can I have my arm back please?” He asked, very reasonably.

 

“I'm just borrowing it,” Steve said, just as reasonably, “I'll give it back later.”

 

Danny studied him, tugged his arm a little, then gave up and started walking again, towing Steve along.

 

“I'll be more than happy to give you a ride to the nearest psychiatric hospital,” he was saying, but Steve wasn't really listening. “I'm sure you'd be comfortable there.”

 

Steve was realizing that, whenever he got _pulled_ , it'd been to help his team, somehow. He loosened his grip on Danny's arm. Whatever Fate, the bastard, was jerking him around for _this_ time, he couldn't ignore it. 

 

If he could do some good, he had to go. As much as he didn't want to. _Damn_ it. He let his fingers slip from Danny's bicep and stopped walking.

 

A few steps later, Danny stopped mid-complaint and sighed.

 

“You just did your ninja disappearing thing again, didn't you?” He turned to see that he was talking to an empty sidewalk. That, or Steve had turned himself into a fire hydrant. 

 

“Great. That's great.”

 

***

 

(Alt.4)

Steve stumbled through the doors at HQ( _Alt.Four, fantastic.)_ and saw Danny, looking tired and worn and far too much like A3-Danny for comfort. Before he really thought about it, Steve had wrapped him in a tight hug.

 

Danny jumped, realized who it was, then sighed and latched on to him. Then he froze and shoved Steve away so roughly he almost fell over.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Danny grabbed him by the arm and shoved him outside, towards the Camero parked out front.

 

“Hello, Danny, it's nice to see you too. Yeah, I'm _fine_ , thanks.” Steve said, a little confused but not as upset as he should be at being manhandled.

 

“What did you _do_ , you idiot?” Danny growled, shoving him towards the passenger door. “Even for you, _this_ is crazy.”

 

“What?”

 

“What, he says,” Danny muttered, cranking the car. He pulled out on the highway before even trying to speak. Then, he opened his mouth a few times without any words coming out, and Steve worried that he was having a stroke.

 

“Calm down, babe,” Steve said, in what he thought was a reasonable, soothing voice.

 

“Calm...How am I supposed to _calm down_? You break out of jail and waltz into Five-0 like it's completely normal, and want _me_ to _calm down_. What. Were. You. _Thinking_?”

 

“I didn't...” Steve said, thankful that Danny's face had lost that haggard look and gained a healthy, angry flush.

 

“Oh, you _didn't_? Then I'll just make a little call here and double check. How's that sound?”

 

“Go for it.” Steve shrugged. He tried to keep his expression pleasantly blank until Danny got off the phone but it was hard, what with the wild look Danny threw his way about three minutes into the call, then had to swerve to keep from running them into a ditch.

 

Danny calmly put away his phone, pulled the car over to the side of the road, and turned on the flashers. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Then he smacked Steve hard in the chest.

 

“If you cloned yourself, Steven, so help me God...” he trailed off, teeth clenched.

 

“I didn't clone myself,” Steve said, rubbing his chest.

 

“Then please tell me what the hell's going on, how you can be in two places at once, before I get annoyed.”

 

“I dunno, Danny, you already look pretty upset.”

 

Danny took another deep breath and let it out, and settled for glaring.

 

“Alright, I'll tell you. But I bet you won't believe me.”

 

~~~

 

“This is not real. No way is this real.” Danny wouldn't stop shaking his head. It was irritating.

 

“At least you're not the butt of some cosmic joke,” Steve said roughly, staring out at the passing landscape. “Where are we going, anyway?”

 

“I've got the clone of a felon in my passenger seat, I haven't thought that far to the future,” Danny snapped, turning back to the road after a quick glance.

 

“I'm not—“

 

“-a clone, I know. Figure of speech.” Danny studied him, eyes narrowed. “How long has this been going on?”

 

“It's...” Steve frowned. “Hell, I can't even remember.”

 

“How do you not remember?” Danny asked more gently.

 

“Every damn day blurs together when you get jerked to a different universe every time you close your eyes.” Steve clamped his mouth shut and stared out the window. If he said much more, he'd give in to the intense need to start a tirade about the screwed-upness that was his life. The universe wouldn't give him a moment's peace, and also refused to give him the opportunity to just _talk_ to _his_ Danny though he'd been wanting to since the first time he'd shifted over to Alt.1 and sleep was a _necessity_ not just a suggestion, you know.

 

 _This_ Danny, (Alt.4-Danny, Steve automatically cataloged him) sensed that he was at his breaking point. He reached out hesitantly and gave Steve's shoulder a squeeze.

 

“For someone I haven't met until today,” Danny said dryly (Steve snorted.), “I think I know you pretty well.” 

 

Steve turned from fuming at the window and looked at him. 

 

Danny paused, considering his words carefully.

 

“And though it is against my better judgment, I believe you.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve said quietly, surprised at how much better that admission made him feel.

 

Danny shrugged. “It's either believe you or admit that both of us should spend some quality time in adjoining padded rooms because m— _this_ Steve is locked up.”

 

“I think that's why I'm here,” Steve admitted, “I'm supposed to help you get him out.” Either his alternate-reality intuiton-o-meter was getting honed, or the mission was so _hit you in the face with a meat cleaver_ obvious that he couldn't mistake it for something else. _Probably a combination_ , Steve mused, _heavier on the latter than the former, but still a combination of the two._

 

“Ah,” Danny said, “so you're just a multidimensional janitor, is that it? Expected to clean up everybody's messes?”

 

Steve shrugged. That was one way of putting it.

 

“Man, the big guy in charge must really hate you.”

 

Steve huffed and crossed his arms.

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Or maybe it thinks that Mr. Badass Super-SEAL is up for the challenge.” He paused for a beat. “Now, is your ego properly stroked? Can we figure out what we're supposed to do here?” 

 

~~~

 

“So _your_ Steve, he didn't break out of jail?” Steve rubbed a hand over his face and dropped down on Danny's couch. He was trying to mesh his own memories with Alt.4's history. It was giving him a headache.

 

“Yeah, he did, actually,” Danny said, raising a hand, “he broke out of jail,” he flipped his hand, “then he got hit by a _car_.” He shook his head. “Been locked down tight ever since _that_ fiasco.”

 

Steve remembered his close-call diving from the ambulance and winced.

 

“So that's why you did all the yelling at me.”

 

“I didn't yell. There was no yelling.”

 

“Right,” Steve said, “You don't yell. So I— _he_ got out long enough to add on a few more injuries, and that's it?”

 

“That's it,” Danny sighed. “We've been busting out asses ever since, Chin pulled some strings and got Five-0 reinstated (I _still_ don't know how he managed that), but Kono's still suspended while they investigate. And we're stuck. And it's driving me _insane_.”

 

“That's a short drive,” Steve said, but (for once) Danny didn't rise to the bait. “So, d'you know about the camera?”

 

“What camera?”

 

“The one in the Governor’s office, with footage of Wo Fat killing her, and setting me up, on it.”

 

“There's a—how did we not know that?” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where, what...” He sat down. “How?”

 

“There's a hidden camera in a clock in the Governor's office.” Steve said simply.

 

“Oh.” Danny said, also simply. “So, we just break in to the Governor's place and steal the clock and there we go.” Danny said with a wave of a hand.

 

“Yeah. Let's go.” Steve started for the door.

 

“Wait, wait.” Danny got up, “I wasn't being serious,” he said slowly.

 

“I was.” Steve shrugged.

 

“What? Mr. Clone-guy is gonna waltz—yeah, not really a clone, I know—right past the security cameras, steal a clock, and that's all she wrote? That is a horrible plan.”

 

“You got anything better?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Danny said. “ _You_ stay far, far away, and I'll go get the camera.”

 

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. If _he_ was captured on the security cameras, it'd implicate A4-Steve. That would be the opposite of good. 

 

“You're not going in there without backup.” he crossed his arms.

 

“Oh, I'm not, am I?”

 

“No.” Steve put on his best _I'm very serious_ face.

 

“You're right,” Danny said, “wanna know why? Because _I'm_ not an insane person who goes in guns blazing without backup.” He stared pointedly.

 

“Good,” Steve said with a quick nod, ignoring the reproach then annoyance coloring Danny's face.

 

Danny threw him one last exasperated look as he got out his phone. “Yeah, Kono? I need a favor. I'd rather not talk about it over the phone, actually. Can I—yeah, we're on our way.” He turned back to Steve. “Don't you think you should change into something a little less McGarrett-chic, babe?”

 

Steve shrugged. “That's probably not a bad idea.”

 

~~~

 

“Sunglasses and a ball cap, _really_? Why don't you put on a fake mustache and finish the look?”

 

“What's wrong with this?”

 

Danny sighed. “You could've at _least_ foregone the cargoes.”

 

“Hey, I changed shirts. And it's not like your _pants_ would fit me anyway.”

 

“Yes, you did. And that has to be one of the loudest shirts I've seen in my life, and that's saying something. Very inconspicuous. (Also, Other-you has stolen the top drawer to the left in my dresser. So, pants.)”

 

“Remember, I found this in _your_ closet, Danny.” Steve tugged the fabric of the red and yellow crime against fashion and the visual centers of the brain. 

 

“It was a gag gift, just so you know.” Danny crossed his arms tighter, defensive.

 

“Right,” Steve said, dubiously, and Danny took a deep, meant-to-be-calming breath.

 

“Are you going to stand around making wise cracks about the contents of my closet or are we gonna get this over with?”

 

Steve didn't even bother hiding his smirk. 

 

~~~

 

“Nice shirt,” was the first thing Kono said when Steve walked through the door. She closed it, then turned around as Steve pulled off his sunglasses. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

 

“See, Danny, the sunglasses work.” 

 

“Congrats,” he said dryly, then took pity on Kono, who looked very, very confused. “It's a long story. The short version of which is Steve has a clone who knows how to get him out of jail.”

 

Kono looked very slightly less confused. 

 

“How many times do I have to say it? I'm—“

 

“not a clone. Jeez, you're really testy about that, you know.”

 

“Are you sure that's not him?” Kono asked, looking from one of them to the other.

 

“Positive,” they said at the same time, and Kono's cheek dimpled when she tried not to grin. 

 

“Okay,” she said, shaking it off, acting like double of her incarcerated boss walked in to her place every day, “where do I come in?”

 

~~~

 

“This was a bad idea,” Steve said to himself for the sixth time, just to throw it out into the universe, since he was alone in the Camero. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and talked himself out of going in to see what was taking so long, for the eighth time. He had the door open and one foot on the ground when Danny and Kono rounded the corner, looking a lot more relaxed than they had any right, in Steve's opinion.

 

“We got it,” Kono said with a grin, hopping into the back.

 

“They're releasing Steve as we speak,” Danny said, then at Steve's look, “they Governor, uh, caught us in the act. He's rushing the process.”

 

“So it was a little anticlimactic. Not that I'm complaining.” Kono said with a grin, then pulled out her phone.

 

Steve glanced at the back seat while he waited for the burning and itchy energy to poke at him, but it didn't. Kono was murmuring into her phone. She was still smiling, but there was a darkness around her eyes that Steve didn't like.

 

“Chin's gonna meet us at HQ,” she said. 

 

Danny poked Steve in the arm. “Are we gonna _leave_ or sit here in the parking lot for a couple hours, _then_ go pick up Steve? You know how he—you”—Danny shook his head at the confusing pronouns that had started to _haunt_ Steve (If he ever got to sleep again, he'd have nightmares.)—“get...s when you-he has to wait around.”

 

Steve cranked the car. Yeah, he knew that feeling all too well.

 

~~~

 

Danny insisted on making the introductions.

 

“Steven, I'd like to introduce you to Steven. You should really be thanking him. You got him out of jail. Wait, _he_ got _you_ out of jail.” 

 

“You're having too much fun with this,” Steve murmured as A4-Steve gaped at him.

 

Danny ignored the comment and clapped him on the back. “Don't worry, Steve, Steve's good people.”

 

“Sorry,” A4-S shook himself out of it, then offered his hand. Steve hesitated, then took it, pursed his lips against the jolt. “It's not every day you meet...yourself.”

 

“Actually, I met me a couple of days ago. I don't think he liked me very much.” Steve said evenly, and A4-S laughed. Steve didn't even crack a grin, so A4-S cut it short and glanced at Danny.

 

Danny shrugged as if to say _How am I supposed to know? He's_ your _clone._

 

Steve noticed that Kono had hung back. He realized where— _when_ she was at. _His_ Kono hadn't been apart from the team for quite as long as A4-Kono had, and the whole situation had been really hard on _her_. 

 

Steve frowned, then he grabbed A4-Steve's arm and pulled him to the side. A4-S's arm twitched and he looked up from it to Steve. “There's electricity—“

 

“ _Please_ don't say it,” Steve sighed.

 

“When we touch,” A4-S finished anyway.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Listen. This is important. You need to talk to Fryer, in IA, about Kono.”

 

A4-S narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

 

Steve shook his head. He didn't know how much to share, or the ways that whatever-was-happening _here_ differed from what happened back home. “Talk to Kono; see if she'll tell you. Look out for your team.”

 

A4-S gave a sharp nod and Steve did the same. At the same time. (Was he cursed to move in unison with all of his doubles?) Then he walked over to Kono (ignoring the curious look Danny gave A4-S) and took her aside. 

 

“Don't worry,” he said quietly, looking her in the eye, “you're tough. You can do this.”

 

Her eyes widened a little, then she nodded. “Thanks, boss.”

 

Steve felt the familiar restless energy building. Ah. So _that's_ what he'd been missing. He thought about walking away, but... What the hell. He cleared his throat to get everybody's attention, gave a quick wave, and let the universe take him home.

 

***

 

(Home)

He actually landed on his feet. In Danny's bedroom. Again. Danny was asleep on the bed. Steve watched him for a little while, then gave in. He toed off his boots and lay down, pillowing his head on his hands. He'd just rest there for a minute, if he had the time before being whisked away again, then he'd leave Danny in peace.

  1.  



“You're making a habit of this,” Danny said groggily, propping up on an elbow to study him.

 

“What can I say, you're irresistible,” Steve said, going for sarcastic but missing the mark. 

 

Danny snorted.

 

“Yeah, that's hot.” he deadpanned.

 

Danny frowned at him. “Are you okay? You've been tense, or, more tense than normal. _When_ you've been around lately.”

 

Steve made himself relax his shoulders and rest his head on the pillow. “I'm good. Just had to work out a few things.”

 

“Good,” Danny said, ruffling his hair in a highly patronizing way, then he stuck a finger in his face. “But if you pull that disappearing act again, I will find you, cuff you to me, and throw the key in the damn ocean. And that wouldn't be fun for either of us.”

 

Steve scooted closer to Danny and slung an arm over his hip, like he'd done it a hundred times and his heart wasn't speeding up at the threat of rejection. “Are you sure about that?”

 

“Actually, I think it'd be more fun to cuff you to the bed.” Danny's voice gained a deep gravelly quality that Steve really liked.

 

“So you could have your wicked way with me?” he teased.

 

“Have 'my wicked way,' make sure you don't disappear again, who's keeping count?” Danny pressed closer to Steve, hovered for a moment, then nuzzled at the crook of his neck.

 

“You missed me.” Steve said, smiling.

 

Danny leaned back and poked him. “Don't sound so pleased. I've just gotten used to your particular brand of insanity, that's all.”

 

“I'm sure that's it.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Thanks a lot, Danno.” Steve said, looking anywhere but at him.

 

“C'mere.” Danny grabbed his chin and kissed him quick, rough, and affectionate. “You are such a goof, you know that? We are in bed _together_ for the umpteenth time in the past week or so and you still haven't made a move, McGarrett.”

 

Steve felt himself flush. “It hasn't been _umpteen_ times, just a couple,” he said defensively, “and am I supposed to read your mind or something because _that's_ not in my wheelhouse.”

 

Danny just chuckled, and Steve felt the vibrations of it against his chest. “Does this look like platonic behavior to you?” He waved a hand between them.

 

Steve didn't know when they'd moved  _that_ close. Hell, Danny had a leg thrown over him, foot hooked round his calf. 

 

“When you put it _that_ way...”

 

“I do. I really do. But I'm a little worried. Your Super-SEAL skills of observation must be slipping.”

 

Steve ignored the jibe and made a pensive face.

 

“Are you _sure_ because I'm not quite buying it.” Danny's irritated huff signified that _that_ mission was accomplished.

 

“Steven, so help me, if you do not stop with the talking and start with the _acting_ , if you get my meaning, I will jump you.”

 

“And that's supposed to be a deterrent?”

 

“Shut up.” Danny growled.

 

Steve grinned when Danny followed through on his threat.

 

*****

 

(???)

 

“Max,” Steve growled into his phone, hunching over to cut off the noise of the street behind him. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

 

“You know, the origins of that particular turn of phrase are fasc—“

 

“Not _now_ ,” Steve snapped, then took a deep breath. He held up a hand, which he realized a few seconds later that Max couldn't see it. He squinted when headlights flashed in his eyes, then looked quickly away. “What, would you say, is the purpose of an _anchor_?” he asked very calmly, considering the circumstances.

 

“An anchor is a stabilizing object, normally nautical, that's main purpose is to keep a vessel in place.” Mr. Dictionary-Man said.

 

“And in reference to inter-dimensional travel?” he asked patiently. It wasn't like it was _this_ Max's fault that Other-Max was wrong about the anchor thing, anyway. 

 

“An anchor would be a stabilizing device of mysterious origin that ensures that one remains in one's own universe, despite a proclivity to do otherwise.”

 

“Right,” Steve said, nodding to his phone,“considering all that, I just have one question.”

 

“Yes?” Max asked, puzzled.

 

“How the hell is it that my anchor malfunctioned and just followed me along for the damn ride?”

 

Max's answer was overpowered by the voice in Steve's other ear.

 

“So, now this is _my_ fault?” Danny hit him on the arm. “Maybe if you'd told me about this...whatever's going on with you... _before_ the absolute last minute (aka seconds after dragging me along to wherever-the-hell-we-are), things might be different.”

 

“Since you're such an expert in inter-dimensional travel.” Steve lowered his phone and glared.

 

“Hey. It's not like I asked to be your”—Danny made air quotes—“'anchor,' Navy-man. So if this is anyone's fault, it's _yours.”_

 

Steve wanted to throw his head back and laugh and bash it against a brick wall at the same time. He _had_ told Fate (the vindictive bitch), in no uncertain terms, that he'd wanted more time with _his_ Danny.

 

Next time he wished for something, he'd be a hell of a lot more specific.


End file.
